


if it doesn't last, then we'll take tonight

by undernightlight



Series: Gays in Space [33]
Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Episode: s06e02 Legion, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Third Person, Shameless Smut, Smut, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27363295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undernightlight/pseuds/undernightlight
Summary: Lister easily grows bored in his cell on Legion's station and he ventures to Rimmer's room for company. The room isn't as he expected, but when Rimmer appears in soft pyjama pants and a tank top, the paintings fall to the back of his mind. With the fear that the hard light drive won't work beyond the station, they seize the opportunity.
Relationships: Dave Lister/Arnold Rimmer
Series: Gays in Space [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/951465
Kudos: 47





	if it doesn't last, then we'll take tonight

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory "lister and rimmer get it on with his new hard light drive" fic

Legion gave a bow and left Lister in his room. It was hard to think of it as a cell, it was nicer than any he’d been in before, but that was exactly what it was, even with the guitar and double bed and poppadom stack on the table. They were leaving tomorrow, they had to, but until then, well, maybe he could enjoy himself. He had peace and privacy, no one on his back, nitpicking his behaviour, but he barely managed an hour before he was bored.

He missed them, missed the company he’d grown used to over the years, and without them, despite the music he had playing, the room - cell - was eerily quiet. 

Lister deliberated for another few minutes before caving, pulling on his boots and stepping back out into the hallway. It was as it had been when Legion had shown them to their rooms, directing them through doors one by one - Rimmer, Kryten, Cat and then him. Three doors, three choices, though, was it really a choice?

Again, he debated his decision, not on who to see, but if who he wanted to see would want to see him too. Lister probably stood there for a full minute thinking it over before deciding that if he didn’t want to be seen, then there were still two others he could try.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door he knew to be Rimmer’s. After a second, it opened, and Lister was standing, looking into the room. Taking a few cautious steps in, he looked around but saw no Rimmer. It was his room, Lister was sure of it as he’d seen Legion usher the man inside, but he couldn’t be seen. The more Lister looked around, the more he doubted himself.

He hadn’t had a perfect picture in his mind as to what Rimmer’s room would look like, but he had an idea - starch bedsheets and a rigid desk with a rigid chair, and astro-nav books stacked up high next to coloured pencils and notebooks - and though he saw elements, there was so much more, so much he would never of guessed.

Right near the door were bookcases, practically lining the entire wall, floor to ceiling. Not every shelf was filled with books, some with small nik-naks and ornaments, but there were enough. Lister walked and ran his finger along their spines. He did recognise a few astro-navs along with some other textbooks, some books Lister knew were given to Rimmer by his father or brothers, but very quickly, his finger hit romance novels and supernatural fiction and comic books; there was a surprising amount of comics, ones Lister remembered growing up reading himself, some he’d never heard of, of all genres and graphical styles.

From the books, he looked at the objects littering the shelves. He saw Rimmer’s swimming certificates in their little frames beside his long-service medals in a neat little box. The next shelf held a framed watercolour painting of a green and orange landscape. It lacked technical skill and definition, but when Lister saw, scribbled in the corned, ‘arnold age 12,’ it made sense. There were a number of other paintings Lister noted, on other shelves, and scanning across, they ranged from ages six to twenty one, but nothing beyond.

Turning his attention away from the shelves, he first took to the round table littered with bowls filled with sweets and candy Lister hadn’t had in years, gummy bears and strawberry cables and sour gobstoppers. Lister reached in and took a handful of flying saucers before continuing his snoop.

The desk housed more paints and grey plastic pieces. As Lister turned over the paint free pieces in his hands, he guessed it must’ve been one of those ‘build it yourself’ models. It wasn’t something that interested him, but he could see it being the sort of thing Rimmer would do to while away the time, or it would be, if the painted pieces weren’t all painted hideously bright, clashing colours; it looked as if an attempt to use every colour in every possible way was being made, and though successful in that goal, it wasn’t necessarily pretty to look at.

Lister dropped the plastic piece on the desk, startled, when he heard footsteps somewhere behind him, and he turned to see Rimmer, towel in his hand and scrubbing at his scalp. “Lister?” He said, squinting, “What are you doing here? Haven’t you ever heard of manners, knock.”

“I did, the door just sort of...opened.”

Taking in the sight of Rimmer, well, it wasn’t what Lister had expected. Sure, he’d seen the guy in those stupid regulation whites, but it was t-shirt; Rimmer stood in front of him in a white, wifebeater vest, that seemed to fit him quite well, clinging just enough to slightly damp skin, the man clearly just emerging from a shower. In contrast however, his bottoms were soft flannel pajama pants that dragged slightly along the floor as he walked.

Rimmer sat at the table, towel across his lap. “Well, what do you want?” Lister expected, as past experience would dictate, venom to be spat with the words, annoyance that Lister had disregarded his privacy, frustration that he was being forced to see Lister more than was absolutely necessary, but that wasn’t what happened. Rimmer sounded tired for sure, but not angry, barely annoyed.

Popping the last of the flying saucers into his mouth, Lister made his way back across the room and sat down. “I just, yano...” He shrugged because not even he knew why he was there, what he wanted, what he was trying to say so how was Rimmer supposed to know, except Rimmed didn’t comment on it, instead he nodded along before taking a handful of smarties and shoving them into his mouth.

“How’s your room?” He asked Lister.

“Good, yano, as expected really.”

“Guitar and curry?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

It fell quiet between them, and it started to drag in the way Lister didn’t like. He snapped himself back. “And your room?” He gestured around. “All you could hope for?” Rimmer nodded as he went for the flying saucers. “Didn’t know you liked these,” Lister said, pinching one before the bowl was pulled away. “I never see you eating such sugary sweets, I mean, back when you were alive yano.”

“I had them as a kid on occasion, when I could sneak myself off to the sweetshop near the boarding school. Shopkeeper took pity on me I think, would give me a few things for free every time I stopped by.”

“The books, that a childhood things as well?”

Rimmer looked across the bookcase, a sad sort of smile on his face, not one Lister was familiar with. “I used to read a lot as a kid. My father, well, he’d take away TV privileges and music privileges, and just about anything he could except books because if I didn’t have something I’d just be getting on his nerves. It gave me something to do I suppose.”

Lister was struck by the openness and honesty that Rimmer spoke with, that Rimmer was showing at all. If you opened a dictionary to the words ‘stubborn,’ ‘distant,’ and ‘lying git,’ you would likely find a picture of Rimmer with that obnoxious, self absorbed smile. There was a disconnect between that Rimmer and the one sitting in front of him, quietly biting holes in the saucers, tipping the sherbert into his mouth and then eating the rest of the tasteless, sugar paper shells.

It was one of the many things that had stuck Lister since stepping inside of Rimmer’s room. He imagined if there was a story behind the sugar and the books, that there were stories behind the other oddities in the room, deeper stories as to why there were so many comic books and why he had stopped painting age twenty one. Lister thought about asking, but he didn’t want to abuse the power, didn’t want to take Rimmer’s calmed attitude for granted; he didn’t want to risk Rimmer getting the wrong idea and shutting Lister out more permanently.

Instead he asked, “So what’s it like havin’ a body again?”

Rimmer nodded, “Pretty good. I had a shower. Forgot what it was like to feel water, to feel anything really.” He scoffed at himself. “Must’ve been in there twenty minutes.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that. It’s been years yano, must be a lot to get used to again but must be good.”

“It’s good,” but somehow it didn’t sound overly convincing.

Lister debated whether he should push it, but he thought he should. “What’s wrong man?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been wantin’ your hands on a body the minute you were switched on. Every time we picked somethin’ up on scanners, you thought it had to be aliens and that they’d give you a body, and now, we actually have met an alien that has actually given you a body, but you don’t look very happy about it, or not as happy as I’d expect you to be. You’re surrounded by everything you could possibly want, so what’s wrong?”

Rimmer grew tense, his jaw tightening and his hand clutching the towel still on his leg. Lister realised that maybe he’d come across as accusatory, which definitely wasn’t the plan, and so he took a breath and tried again. “I just mean, I thought you’d be excited to be hard light an’ all that.”

“I am,” Rimmer finally said after another few moments of silence. Lister noted how it sounded as he was trying to convince himself just as much as he was Lister, but he didn’t say anything. His patience was rewarded. “It’s just,” Rimmer managed, before stopping again. He looked briefly around the room before his eyes fell on Lister, and then quickly back to his hands. “How do we know this will last? For all we know, as soon as we leave I’ll revert to being soft light, and all this will just be a painful reminder of what I can never have again.”

Oh, well, that made sense. That was a reasonable fear, Lister thought, though he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from Rimmer, he was just used to him blowing things way out of proportion, but this made sense, a reasonable fear, and Lister silence following it, as Lister looked across at him, was only serving to increase his anxiety.

“Oh it’ll be fine man, stop worrying.” He wasn’t convinced he sounded overly reassuring.

“You can’t say that. You can’t tell me it’ll be fine because what if I believe you and then it’s not?”

“Then, then,” Lister struggled out. He’d known Arnold Rimmer for years at this point, known him far longer as a dead man than a living one, and yet, he still was never sure how to best comfort him. So rare were those moments that Lister has little reference to draw from. Instead, Lister thought, since Rimmer wasn’t acting much like the Rimmer he was used to, he’d give advice that would help him if the situation was reversed. “Then stop thinkin’ about it.”

Rimmer frowned at him. “Well thank you Lister, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“If you sit here all night thinking about it then you won’t enjoy it, will you? You’ll just sit and worry and forget about all the things you can do and touch. Maybe it’ll last forever, who knows, but if it doesn’t, you don’t want the one night you were hard light to be wasted worrying, right?”

There was something pleading in the way Rimmer looked at him, and Lister wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but he found he wasn’t scared by it, wasn’t even confused or surprised or freaked out. Apparently though, it didn’t matter, because the desperation of his eyes was quickly replaced by panic, and Rimmer pushed himself to his feet, stepped away from Lister and the table.

Lister stood. “Come on, it’s alright.”

“But what if what I want - what if it doesn’t matter? What if, what if I can’t have it anyway, so then it’s better that I don’t think about all the things I can touch and all the things I can’t and all the -”

Rimmer stopped speaking when Lister placed a gentle hand on his arm and spun him around so they faced each other. “While we’re here, we can have everything we want.”

He was hesitant, but Rimmer seemed to understand, or maybe Lister was reading too much because Rimmer still asked, “Both of us?” because he needed to be sure they were on the same page, that they were asking the same thing of each other.

Lister nodded. He let his hand slide down the length of Rimmer’s arm and found his hand, linking their fingers together. He was slow, deliberate and careful with the movement, not wanting to go too fast and scare him off. He felt a hand settle on his waist, hesitant but there, and it was a step. They were close, closer than Lister had realised. It would be so easy to just…

Soft lips met his, and he wasn't sure who'd move to meet the other but he supposed it didn't matter because they were kissing. It was warm and still, Lister could feel the hesitation through it, so he was the one to move, to tilt his head into it and slide his hand out of Rimmer's and link behind his neck. Both of Rimmer's hand settled well on his waist and pulled him closer, light enough for Lister to feel it but so easily he could ignored it like he didn't; it was deliberate he knew, and way Rimmer could back out or to keep it from going further to save himself later fear, but he wanted more, so did Lister, so he pressed them together, chest to chest. 

Before it could heat, it came to a stop, Rimmer pulling back just enjoy for their lips to break. Lister watched him swallow with a struggle. Though his fingers, Lister could feel the tension, the nerves and the panic that this...that this was all they’d get or that it was already too much or the fear that he wanted more but might not be able to have it; honestly Lister didn’t know, but he wanted to ease it.

He placed a gentle kiss to the corner of Rimmer’s mouth, delicate, almost not there but definitely there. “It’s alright,” he said, “You’re alright, you’re good.” He pulled him in, firmly wrapping his arms around his neck, and hugged him. It took a few moments of Lister silently worried he’d screwed it up before it really started before he felt the hands on his waist slip back around him, palms flat against his back. Rimmer’s head came to rest against his. And they stayed like that until Lister was confident the tension in Rimmer’s body had leaked away.

It was again Rimmer to be the one to pull back, but the contact wasn’t broken long, as this time Lister was confident in saying it was Rimmer that had kissed him, more confident in his movements this time, hands pulling at shirt fabric and head naturally angling for better access. Lister was surprised by how natural it felt, how easily his mind was able to accept that it was Rimmer pressed against him, that it was Rimmer’s hair his fingers were threaded through, that it was Rimmer’s hands testing the water, carefully pushing at the hem of Lister’s shirt; reality was never the same as those late night thoughts.

Lister pulled his own shirt off, saving Rimmer any embarrassment of having to ask - Lister knew they were still in risky territory - and threw it aside. Rimmer didn’t seem to mind the break in contact, but was clearly desperate to keep it, their mouths locking back together as soon as possible. Things heated, tongues pushing against each other, teeth occasionally knocking but it doing nothing to ruin the mood.

Hand’s continued to pull at skin and they stumbled backwards towards the bed. Rimmer hit the bed at his knees and by instinct he sat, lowering himself, now looking up. He was already breathing heavy, and Lister knew he was too, and god, was it a sight to take in: swollen lips, parted and wet; dark eyes staring up, clouded over with what Lister knew was distinctly desire; cheeks flushed red, warmer than the rest of him when Lister ran his fingers along his cheekbone.

It was almost a shame when Lister went to pull Rimmer’s vest off because he didn’t nearly get enough time to admire his body in it, his shoulders, the way it clung to his chest and stomach, the way it made him seem so broad, but Lister wouldn’t complain when it meant seeing Rimmer shirtless and getting to fully explore those features with his own hands. It was tossed onto Lister’s shirt across the room.

His fingers slid along the muscle line between shoulder and back, going out and down Rimmer’s arms and back up again before settling either side of his face and kissing him, slow and delicate, but it quickly devolved into what it was before - messy and desperate. It was easy to slide his hands back into Rimmer’s hair, lacing at pulling at his damp curls, letting his fingers scratch at his scalp. Rimmer’s hands clung to the fabric around Lister’s thighs, the easiest place to have his hand, and so often, he would tug lightly, signalling what he wanted.

Lister knew what he wanted, and was assured of it when his leg press gentle between Rimmer’s, earning a throaty moan to be passed from one mouth to the other, but he wanted him to ask for it, or better yet, to take it, to have the confidence in himself to go for what he wanted, and the trust in Lister that he wanted the same. And Lister knew he would only have to wait for so long because though Rimmer was a cautious man, especially in this regard, he was also an impatient man.

When hand’s fumbled up at his zipper, he couldn’t help but smile ever slightly into the kiss, and push his leg a little harder against Rimmer’s cock, already getting hard through his pajama pants. Lister felt the strain of the leathers go and he moaned at the freedom. Rimmer’s hands tugged at the stiff fabric, pulling down. They had to stop, Lister pulling back, slowly decreasing the kiss to separate easily from Rimmer, and hastily worked to undo his boots and to strip off the leathers.

In his boxers alone, he watched as Rimmer shifted on the bed, pushing himself back to lay along the length of the mattress. Lister took a moment to take in the view unrestrained, the toned torso and the long legs and unruly hair; looking, knowing there was more to come between them made Lister’s cock harder, already starting to leak.

He clambered up on the bed, lacking grace as usual, and straddled himself across Rimmer’s hips, feeling Rimmer’s cock against his through the fabric. It was easy to roll his hips against Rimmer’s, just a little was enough to elicit a moan from him, but Lister could tell he was stifling it, holding back, and that wasn’t what he wanted at all.

Leaning down, he captured Rimmer’s lips against his, and there was nothing slow and delicate as they fought against each other for nothing but the fact that it was them, and if they weren’t fighting for no reason, then was it really them? Lister timed movements, as best he could, with his lips and his hips, rolling and pushing and slowly, deviously, building friction, little spikes that made them moan but not enough, nowhere near enough to satisfy either of them. He was driving himself mad, but he was determined to get Rimmer to squirm in pleasure beneath him.

Rimmer was already starting to squirm, trying to push his hips up in time with Lister, but he was often late, delayed like he was too distracted to keep time. Lister let his mouth roam along his jawline, down neck before licking back up in one continuous stripe, collarbone to ear. Rimmer shuddered and moaned, his mouth close to Lister's ear, the sound going straight down to his straining cock just begging for attention.

He reached down between them, and still from outside the fabric, he palmed at Rimmer’s cock, and another moan spilled from him, a delectable sound that caused the air in Lister’s lungs to hitch. Slowly, he dragged his hand up and down, still building friction. Rimmer’s hands clawed at his back, bucking his hips up, desperate for more.

“Dave,” his voice gave out, dry and panting, and that could’ve been enough to have Lister coming then and there; the sound of his name, so pleading and needy and hoarse, coming from Rimmer, well it was enough to drive him mad surely.

No longer wanting to deny his partner nor himself, he slipped his hand past the waistband of Rimmer’s trousers, delighted to find no underwear - one layer less to strip - and took ahold of his cock. Rimmer instantly bucked into the contact.

It was easy to find a rhythm but not so easy to stick to it. Each stroke, every light drag of his short nails, every twist against the head, had Rimmer moaning, the sounded no longer being pulled from his but dripped out with ease, and it was far too easy for Lister to get distracted by them, to intently listen to each and every one and relish in the sound. He was still untouched, but maybe he’d come without it, especially at this rate.

Rimmer’s hands were, understandably, shaky, his brain struggling to form anything half coherent but Lister didn’t mind as he felt hands inch downward, pushing at his boxer’s elastic, before slipping in and gently taking a hold of him. He moaned and instinctively leant forward, his head resting against Rimmer’s shoulder, turning in, hot breathing against his neck.

They found a rhythm together, up and down in time, but every so often, one of them would deviate, adding a twist or sliding a thumb over the slit or squeezing at the base a little harder, and the whole pace would be thrown off, the receiver getting distracted, their hand losing timing but to no one's agitation; it was a give and take sort of thing, and they’d find the rhythm again.

It was building, Lister could feel it twist in his gut, that telltale sight that he was getting close, and judging by the way Rimmer moaned and squirmed beneath him, he would guess it too. Only a few more stoked, Lister thought, but then he felt a hand around his wrist stopping him, and the hand around his cock stilled. Lister managed to lift his head up, frowning down, confused.

“I,” Rimmer managed before he had to stop to compose himself, still breathing heavy. “I want this to last. Please.”

Lister nodded, not denying that, though he was desperate for release, but he’d listen, heed Rimmer’s words, and he slowed his hand as it was freed, lightening his touch. Rimmer pulled his hand free of Lister, pulling an uncharacteristic whimper, but neither were embarrassed or caught off guard. Rimmer tugged at Lister’s boxers and pulled them off, and Lister helped by awkwardly stepping out of them while still straddling. Getting Rimmer’s pants off was easier, hips easily and willinging being lifted to slide the fabric down, adding to the final pile of discarded clothes.

Their cocks laid against each other bare, the contact electric. Lister wanted to touch, to run his hand up Rimmer's length painfully slowly to see him squirm and moan, but wanted it to last too, as long as they couldn't make it.

So instead, his hands rested on Rimmer's hips, his thumbs falling along the natural v and he ran his hands down. When they were flat, he pushed his hands up, his weight behind them, and let his body drag, inch by inch, across Rimmer's. The man beneath him moaned again, and Lister was happy to hear them unstifled, all deep and heavy yet somehow breathy, like Rimmer was emptying his lungs every time, and god was hot. Lister wasn’t overly vocal nor quite, moaning and groaning and panting in a way he’d consider average, but Rimmer was loud and often, the vibrations travelling all through his body, and with them unrestrained, they were glorious.

“Oh Dave,” Rimmer panted out, breathless. “Ignore what I said, please, please I need…”

“Tell me,” he whispered down Rimmer’s ear before peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you, please.”

“Tell me more.”

“I need… I want…” It was embarrassment - regardless of how breathly he was, he knew what embarrassment from Rimmer sounded like - what made him change his words; still, even like this, naked and leaking onto his own stomach with Lister atop him, he needed to protect himself.

“Please tell me. Tell me so I can give it to you.”

The following words were still washed with a thin layer of heated shame, but it was not enough to stop Rimmer from saying, “I want your mouth around my cock,” and Lister moaned just hearing it allowed.

He kissed Rimmer, not only because he wanted to but to show his thanks, to show that sharing his desires was more than appreciated but welcomed; he wanted to encourage it, for Rimmer’s confidence and for his own pleasure

When Lister lifted himself back, Rimmer chased his lips, pushing himself onto his elbows to watch, to ask with pleading eyes why he’d stopped. With heavy eyes and a smirk, he started sliding himself down Rimmer’s toned and sweaty body, hands and mouth dragging strips of heat as he went which set Rimmer to wriggling again. Fingers came to press as Rimmer’s inner thigh, and Lister kissed delicately around his cock and balls, letting his tongue explore.

His nose pressed against the soft skin of Rimmer’s stomach, and he looked up, that devilish grin still on his face. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

With no further foreplay, Rimmer still watching with glazed eyes, Lister took him all into his mouth in one swift movement, and with Rimmer bucking his hips, the head of his cock hit the back of Lister’s throat. Surprised, he pulled off, breathing heavily and coughing twice.

“I’m sorry,” Rimmed began, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, it just happened. Did I hurt you?”

Lister reached out his hand to rest atop of Rimmer’s, clutching around the bedsheet. “I’m fine,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wasn’t expecting it is all.”

Rimmer seemed unsure, but Lister went back to his aching cock, and his head fell back as kisses were littered along his length. Lister was slower, taking his time and teasing, running his tongue across the head and pulling a deep shudder from Rimmer. A few more licks and Lister went down, taking less and waiting a moment. Rimmer’s hips had bucked again, but Lister was better prepared; the head of Rimmer’s cock hit the roof of his mouth but he remained in place.

When Rimmer’s shaking breaths had startled to settled - to the best it could with a man’s lips around his cock - Lister started moving, slow movements at first, with shudders and moans, his tongue swirling along the underside, but Rimmer’s needy reactions spurred him on. He started building pace, taking Rimmer’s cock in deeped with each dip of his head, and Rimmer was quickly falling apart.

A hand came to desperately tangle itself in Lister’s locks, pushing and pulling and tugging along, wanting more, and Lister was happy to oblige. He sank deeper, as deep as he could. He gagged but kept himself down, Rimmer’s hand helping, sending vibration from his throat down. From Rimmer came a sound unlike the other’s Lister had heard that night; instead of the deep, breathy moans, out came a sharp, high pitched, pleading cry. When Lister pulled off, needing to breath, a whimper came followed from Rimmer.

The man wouldn’t last much longer, Lister knew that, and Rimmer’s eyes were begging him to keep going, and so he did. He went back down, taking his full length with more comfort, and bobbing his head. Rimmer was keening, and his free hand started hitting the bed sheet, the best warning he could manage being unable to form words. Lister understood, and a few seconds later, Rimmer came into his mouth.

He kept himself in place as Rimmer emptied into him, hollowing his cheeks on occasion, and only pulled off when he knew Rimmer could no longer take the stimulation, over sensitive. Lister swallowed and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand, and made his way comfortably up to Rimmer, who lay exhausted, head on the pillow.

Lister kissed his cheek gently, and found arms quickly and warmly enveloping him, pulling him closer. “Feeling good?” Lister asked, slightly cheeky and slightly genuine.

Rimmed nodded with a smile, his eyes still clouded with lust but in a comfortable, sated way. “I feel better than I have in a very long time.” His voice was hoarse and dry, understandable with that much moaning. Rimmer kissed him, firm and still but affectionate.

He pulled back rather suddenly, eyes slightly wide. “Any you,” he said, a note of sadness to his tone as he shifted his weight, gently pushing Lister into the mattress and pushing himself up. “May I return the favour?” He asked. With that tone, it was like he was asking to next host a mean and not if he could suck Lister off.

“You don’t have to,” Lister said and he meant it. He needed to get off, but he could happily do it himself, and by no means wanted Rimmer to expect to have to return it.

Rimmer swung himself to straddle Lister’s waist. “I want to,” came the soft reply. The hesitance was clear; Lister settled hand’s on his thighs and waited, knowing there was more. “It’s just,” and Rimmer averted his gaze. “I’ve never done it before.”

Lister rubbed circular patterns into Rimmer’s skin. “It’s okay, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. Just take your time, and don’t push yourself, don’t make yourself uncomfortable.” Rimmer nodded and took a deep breath before shimmying himself down.

Lister’s cock had been painfully hard for a long time, so when Rimmer’s hand, with long and nimble fingers, wrapped around his base and gave a testing squeeze, he let out a throaty moan. Rimmer’s cautious eyes flickered up, and upon realising the moan was one of pleasure, allowed a satisfied smile to grace his lips; Lister thought it was a good look on him - it was proud but not smug.

A few experimental, unsure licks had Lister writhing in the sheets. “Oh please,” he begged, practically whimpering. “Please.”

Rimmer, emboldened, went down on Lister’s cock, slowly, saliva dripped from his mouth. Rimmer had no right looking as good as he did with messy hair and swollen lips and a mouth full of cock, but god, did he look gorgeous; the sight alone, ignoring how wonderful it felt, was practically enough to make him come, but he took a few deep breaths as he nodded, composing himself as best he could.

For never having given a blowjob, Rimmer wasn’t bad. It was clear he lacked experience, but it didn’t phase Lister’s pleasure - Lister remembered the first time he’d done it and he was terrible, and the few other people who’d never done it until with him, and Rimmer was by far the best of the lot. He still needed guidance, and Lister happily carded his fingers through the soft curls and aided him. Rimmer hollowed his cheeks, like Lister had done, as he pulled up, and Lister knew that if he did it again, he was a goner.

Rimmer, seeming to get the hang of reading Lister’s expressions, bobbed his head a few times more before repeating the action. Lister lost control, bucked his hips and came. His finger’s tightened in Rimmer’s hair, pulling, only realising as he was coming down from the high that it must’ve been painful, and he slipped his hand free from the curls. RImmer followed the action and pulled off, coping Lister and whipping his hand across his mouth before shuffling up the bed to lay beside him.

“Was it alright?” He was so painfully worried, and Lister kissed him.

“Yes, it was great.” He kissed him again, still tasting himself. “What about you? How did you find your first time giving a blowie?”

Rimmer’s brow creased as he thought, tongue running along his lips and teeth. “Salty.”

A hearty laugh escaped Lister. “What, you didn’t like it?” Rimmer shrugged as best he could, laying on his side and in Lister’s arm. “Well, next time just pull off before I come and you should be okay.”

“You want there to be a next time?”

Dread suddenly set into Lister’s stomach and his smile dropped. “I mean, yeah, if you want to.” A kiss was pressed to his lips, arms tightening their gentle hold.

When they separated, Rimmer nodded. “I think I’d like that. That is, if this continues.” He motioned to his body, his hard light body. In the midst of everything, Lister had forgotten that was what had started them down the path to begin with, the fear that the hard light drive would only work on Legion’s station, and they had to leave in the morning.

Lister sensed Rimmer’s sadness, and wished not to dwell on it while they were still recovering from their exploits. He changed the subject. “Mind if I stay the night? My room just seems so far away.”

“If you think I’m letting you leave then you clearly don’t know how selfish I am.”

With a chuckle and some heavy adjustments, they managed to wriggle themselves under the sheets. Lister settled himself with his back to Rimmer’s chest, arm slung across his waist, and Lister hadn’t felt this tired in a long time.

From the bed, he could see the rest of the room, the painting and books and the desk with the painted plastic pieces. He was still curious about the stories behind them. He hoped that Rimmer may allow himself to be more vulnerable with him, that he knew he could trust Lister with these stories. Before he slipped into sleep, he made a mental note to, once safe on Starbug, ask Rimmer about all these hidden stories.

**Author's Note:**

> I've read so many fics - and so many smutty fics - that take place during the "Legion" episode, and honestly, I haven't grown sick of them at all, so of course I wrote my own.


End file.
